


Lost Dreams

by screammusic



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Death, Rewrite, Sister - Freeform, punching scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screammusic/pseuds/screammusic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't easy being the sister of Captain America. Even when you're dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Edith](https://archiveofourown.org/works/875309) by [screammusic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/screammusic/pseuds/screammusic). 



> Once again, any and all reactions are welcome. This was created because of Dukeofnachos and Skywinder. Any mistakes, I will happily correct. I don't much. This came from my original work, Edith. Thank you.

"Steve?" A small voice questioned from the door. 

"Yeah, Edith?" Steve turned from his tan desk, glancing over to the small child. Her blonde hair tangled over her face and shoulders, partially hiding her expression. "You're supposed to be asleep." Steve began putting his ink and pen away, glancing over every few seconds. That's when he began to notice her outfit. A night gown, a teddy bear, and bare feet. So, she'd obviously been to bed, just didn't stay there. 

"I had a bad dream." Her quiet voice confirmed Steve's suspicions. Edith looked to him with imploring eyes, still waiting upon the thresh hold. The eldest's expression softened. 

"C'mere," Steve opened his arms. Tears began welling up anew, and just as they started to fall, the child crashed into his arms. "Hey, hey, you're alright. Okay?" He picked her up into his lap, the teddy bear resting between her stomach and legs. 

"We-we lost the war, and you were gone," Edith began sobbing into his chest, broken sounds vibrating through his bones as she recounted the story. "They ca-came and took us all! Just l-like the-the others." Steve shushed her until Edith began calming down. A few tears dripped from her familiar eyes, and he tightened the hold. "You never came back."

"Now, Edith, do you honestly think I would leave you all alone?" He heard a sniffle. "I'm always going to come back, okay? We're all going to be fine." 

Although Steve wasn't positive on either of the promises, he do anything for her to believe them. To keep her innocent for as long as possible. Even if war pressed closer, and no one gave a thought to expressing horror in front of a six year old. Steve would find a way to keep the war from touching her. 

\------

As usual, Steve was home before anyone else. Parents still at work and sister still at school, he went down to the musky basement. 

His fathers weights gleamed at him. Almost a tease. He walked slowly over, starring the objects down in a determined resolve. Removing twenty-five pounds from each side (which was work enough), Steve laid down upon the bench. Thin legs hanging off the side, the blue eyed boy put both hands on the shiny metal bar. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. Lift. 

"Holy-oof!" After forgetting to factor in the weight of the bar with the actual weights, Steve ended up with a bar bouncing off his chest. Apparently adrenaline kicked in fast when eighty pounds is threatening your life. 

Steve rolls off the leather then, fighting air back into his lungs. It takes him a while, but when he's finally able to stand, Steve stretches his arms out. 

The blue cotton of his shirt pulls away as his hands grasp the fabric, and a red line begins to appear on the thin skin. The weight hadn't fully slammed into him, not enough to break, but the bruising was a definite side affect. 

With a fleeting thought of returning to his usual weights, Steve made his way gingerly up the stairs. He'd pick the instrument up before his parents returned. No one had to know about it. 

When his feet finally hit the white linoleum, Steve almost fell all the way back down. Removing the hand he'd been subconsciously rubbing his chest with, he tried to form a sentence. And when he finally did, it wasn't the one he was really wondering. "Um, Edith, what are you doing?" 

A gleam only children get was anchoring him to the spot. The blue of her eyes acting as beams and her smile radiating towards him, she waved a sticky hand. 

"Making jelly soup!" Was her happy reply. 

A white bowl was on the center of the counter. Various bottles littered the same residence, and more were being added. Jelly, peanut butter, milk, chocolate, ketchup, and much more. The bowl loomed ever closer as Steve finally broke his stance, peering into its shiny contents. Its shiny, gruesome contents. 

"Mom isn't going to be happy." Steve remarked. He looked over to her now dropping face, a bottle of honey slowly dripping onto her hands. Hands which were most likely her choice of mixer. 

"Well, why not?" She asked, stubbornly. 

"Well," He threw in a little tease to his explanation. "We're rationing and that stuff only comes to us because of Grampa's store."

"But I'll eat it!" She protested loudly. Fully aware of the soreness on his chest, the brother leaned over and plucked the oozing honey from her hands. It settled next to an open carton of eggs. 

"No, I don't think you will." And Steve began picking things up. 

"Steve! Stop! I said I am going to eat it!" She yelled at him, pushing his hands from the bowl. 

"Edith-" Steve started getting agitated, but was stopped by the front door opening. 

"My goodness, Steve!" Bucky leaned around the corner, surprise shifting into opportunity. "Look what you did! Edith, can you believe him? Come on, you and Steve can go get your hands clean and I'll," He stretched the word, "Clean up here." 

Knowing his charming powers on Edith, Bucky worked a smile in. And that pretty much shattered the girl's resolve. 

"Okay, Bucky!" Immediately grinning back, a blush hitting her youthful face. 

"Alright, go with Steve now, Sweetheart." He accentuated it with a wink. 

The girl started down the hallway, and just as the man in question began to leave, he turned to glare at the now nuetral friend of his. "I hate it when you do that."

"It works."  


"Shut up."  


Steve trailed after his sister, rotating his shoulders in a slight pain. The things he did for her. He crossed into the small bathroom, seeing Edith holding a washcloth and soap.  


"Let me." Her brother crouched down, taking her small hands and wiping them clean with a practise that comes with age. Seventeen and he had it down pat. Edith stared at the pink cloth as it wrapped around her skin, pulled, and repeated.  


"I'm sorry, Steve." She amended, not reaching his eyes. The cloth barely paused.  


"I know."  


Steve finished wiping the sugary coating from her skin, and looked up. She gave him a huge smile, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug. He gave a sigh, returning the gesture, and let go with his own smile.  


\--------  


"I'm telling you to leave her alone."  


Oh god. No. This isn't helping.  


Edith pinched her brother's sleeve, tugging lightly with a hushed, "Don't." glared up. Steve pulled out of her grip, stepping up to the fifteen year old with more mass than he.  


"What are you going to do?" The bulky child threatened. Steve didn't back down.  


"Listen. You leave my sister alone and we won't have any problems. Got it?" The brother was more confident than he should have been. Far more confident. This was proved as the child gave a small laugh, and threw his fist straight into Steve's face. Steve was knocked down to the ground with a hard thud, his hands scrapping bloodily on the pavement while his nose streamed the red liquid.  


"HEY!" Anger flared up in the little girl, blinding white in her eyes. She balled her fist up, pulling it back. But a strong hand caught it, then proceeded to push the girl behind the connecting body.  


"You touch either of them again, so much as look at one wrong, and you won't be walking for a week." The low voice seared over to the child below it.  


"Y-yes, sir." Finally the child sped away.  


"Steve." Bucky groaned, spinning around to give the man a hand. The eight year old peered into his face, checking for all evidence of pain. She found only traces as he became aware of her glance.  


"I know, Bucky. Let's just get her home."  


\------------

"Edey?" Steve knocked on the white door, it's thick paint making the impact of his knuckles softer. "Edith?"  


"Go away!" Was the muffled cry which broke his heart.  


"Can I come in? Please? Just...just let me explain?"  


"No!"  


"Edith. Please?" He put his forehead against the wood, his hands flattening in the space left on either side. Receiving no reply, Steve sunk to the ground, turning his body in order to lean with his back, knees lazily up and face tilted towards the ceiling. He let out a sigh, closing his blue eyes tiredly.  


Steve's parents had been proud. His dad clapped him on the back, shook his hand, a broad grin across his face. His mother had been teary eyed, hugging his form while holding back sobs. They were scared but respected his wishes.  


Then there was Edith.  


She had stood staring at him blankly. His parents went out to get food, "a cookout's in order!" his mother had claimed. The minute they left, Edith had turned around and briskly walked to their carpeted staircase. But brisk was thrown out the window as she charged towards her room, bringing a hand up to her mouth. Steve gaped for a moment, then ran up after her in a panic. The door slammed before he reached the top.  


That brings the situation to Steve sitting on the floor, listening to muffled crying.  


"Edith?" He said softly. "I need you to understand. I know it's hard being nine and having me leave...but you have to be strong. I want this. It's all I've wanted for a long time." The crying calmed gradually, and Steve felt the door press back as she slid down the other side. "You know, your name means war. Kinda ironic, actually. You wish war away yet the thought will follow you around. But another thing your name means is warrior for the good. And I know you'll fight for everyone to come home. I'm not going to forget that, and I am going to come home." Steve felt stupid for saying all that. It was out of character and disorganized...but it was possible the sentiment made her feel better.  


"Do you promise?"  


The handle turned, the white door opening hesitantly behind him. Steve had enough sense to move over, leaning against the wall. Edith left the door open and took the other side. They sat in silence for a few moments.  


"You're wrong." She said at last.  


"About what?"  


"It doesn't matter how old I am. It's hard no matter what. And I'm going to miss you, but I know you'll be back. Just...don't forget to be careful, Stevie." The words came out watery, and Steve moved over to wrap his thin arms around her. She rested her head against his collar bone, gripping his arm tightly. "Be there when I turn ten?"  


"I wouldn't miss it for the world."  


\-------  


"Edey?" Steve Rogers, fresh from the Battle of New York, walked into his sister's hospital room. He'd gotten a call at two in the morning. She'd woken from her coma, but she was fading fast.  


"You used to call me that when you did something wrong." Her gravely voice was laced with amusement. Steve crossed the room to sit in the chair next to herbed. The plush red cushioned around him. "You also used to be smaller. But I remember the pictures." He grabbed her frail hand, one which was normally unmoving, and gently covered it with both of his.  


"Well, I never showed for your tenth birthday, to start." He tried. The small upturn of lips made him smile.  


"That's okay. Mr. Stark got me a pony." She threw in. Steve closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the long lost friend and how alike to his son Howard was. As he opened them again, Edith was staring back at him. "Built me a small castle out in the New York plains. Said he'd bring me you, every birthday. I guess it's only fitting today is his."  


"I think he would be happy knowing you woke up today." Steve moved his hands in soothing circles, warming the fragile bones. She swallowed, blinking her eyes a few slow times.  


"I always knew you were going to save the world." Tears welled in the China blue, sparking a similar reaction in the healthy human. He paused his hands for a moment, listening to her breath start to falter, speeding up on the intake and going out shaky.  


"When I woke up, I asked for you. SHEILD had kept you safe all these years. But...I couldn't save you." He took a deep breath, "I'm so sorry."  


"Don't do that, Stevie." She started to wheeze. "I'm long gone anyway."  


"Edith?" Steve panicked, watching her eyes flutter and the heart monitor slow.  


"You've always been my hero, Steve, thank you." The words ghosted out of her mouth, the breath barely being spared.  


"Edith?" Tears choked his throat, contorting his face into pain. "Please no."  


"I love you, big brother." Barely formed in an exhale. But it was too late for a response. A long beep rang and the sound of footsteps slowed outside, before starting again. Steve held her hand a little tighter, sobbing into it as he pressed the fingers to his forehead. He forced air into his lungs, taking her wrinkled skin and resting it on her stomach.  


"I-I love you, too, little sister. I...I'll always love you." He kissed her forehead, patting her hair back.  


\------  


Edith Penelope Rogers died on August 15th, 2013. A rare disease had finally taken her in her sleep without warning at 2:37am. She was alone, and hadn't woken for six years.


End file.
